


One Shot, One Kill

by sunrizen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrizen/pseuds/sunrizen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every one shot I've ever written—and will write—are to be featured in this collection. I do not write extended parts, ergo the title. I take one shot and I kill it.</p><p> <br/>Chapter 10: Post Mission Turmoil: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanov/Male!Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Temporary Circumstances: Steve Rogers

Four grey walls surround you. The neutral color soothes your unrest. But that's not the reason they remain bare. There's lacking sense of home here at the new compound. Your room in the tower, the safe house you used as an apartment a few times, the month you spent at Rogers' previous apartment. It all felt temporary. And it was.

This is supposed be a long-term crash pad. The place where you'd come to when you had nowhere else to go. The place where you're supposed to be surrounded by people who care. You know they do. You know what this new facility means—what it is—to the rest of the team. But it doesn't feel like home.

Years have passed since you felt at home. Sometimes, just the nostalgia has the power to make you swoon. It envelopes you whole and wraps it's warm embrace around you. It dances with strings of beautiful memories. It breathes you in and elevates your inner child, urging her to come to the surface. It's almost enough to remind you of what home feels like. Almost.

Honey-dipped memories come with a bitter darkness. Secrets of your past make a gradual twist around the silent bliss. Tangling and intertwining frail vines of pain; vines that can tear at any sudden movement. A thick fog hovers in the air and you're lost. Your world is cloudy again.

The door slightly cracks open. You're startled on the inside but too focused on your thoughts to stiffen. A large mass steps inside the room. You pay no mind to the intruder. Sustaining your dazed blinks at the wall, you don't care who it is. Even as they sit on the edge of your bed.

A familiar voice speaks to you but you can't make out the words. You barely recognize the voice since you're so deep in thought. But the person has enough effect on you to penetrate the fog. His voice is like a horn, calling to you from the shoreline. Yet he makes no coherent phrases.

He climbs onto the bed, arriving as close to you as possible, and cups your cool cheeks. Bringing your eyes to meet his, Captain Rogers frowns.

In that same moment, you finally break free of a hazy stupor. Your consciousness glides back down to earth and illuminates your features. The words he's saying finally string along into an actually sentence.

"Look at me," he says. The Captain's warm palms tremble on your cheeks. "Can you speak? Do you know what's going around you? Do you know who I am?"

'Can you speak?' What kind of question is that? Of course you can speak. A smile cracks across your face. You let out a low chuckle. Then the chuckle breaks into giggles.

Rogers releases his grip on your face and watches as you erupt into a cackle. Bewilderment sets into the cracks of his features. He looks you up and down and stares at you as the comedown from a cackle back to giggles makes you hiccup. "Are you… what kind of liquor did Tony give you now?"

You bit your lip trying to stifle more chuckle fits. Your brows raise and you squint your eyes. "Liquor… hah!" You lean your forehead into his warm chest and grin. "Hmm. It's such a cool word. French origins, right? The French are good people. They gave us the idea for fries."

"Darling, you're not making any sense."

You let out a shriek and another giggle.

He kisses the top of your crown and pulls you away from him. "I'm going to make you some water. The hangover after this is probably going to be hell."

You let out a breathy snicker. "That's _so_ not gonna help. I'm not even drunk. Can't have a hangover if I'm not drunk."

He blinks at you and narrows his eyes. "You're not drunk?"

"Look at me," you tell him and he does. You hang your mouth half-open an extra moment before you lean in close and whisper at him. "I haven't slurred a single word." When the realization hits you, you can't help but feel extra giddy. "Oh my god, that rhymed!"

"If you're not drunk, then are you…" he pauses, hesitating before starting again. "Are you high on dope?"

A smile touches your eyes and you let out a hum. The caution in his voice is amusing. For a split second you feel empty. Then like a vacuum pressing to your lips, the humor is suddenly sucked out of you all at once. "Am I?"

The Captain's brows twitch. But he remains silent; studying you, watching… waiting.

You blink at the super soldier, tilting your head to the side. "Rogers," you say. "Your eyes are blue. Not the color, I mean. But the glow of them. They're sad and exhausted and depleted of any trace of joy."

His gaze falls for a millisecond. But he makes a quick recovery, managing to catch himself and bounce back up at your eyes. Still, the man before you says nothing. Only teetering on the edge of wonder, and curiosity mixed in with hurt and a weary ambivalence.

Nullifying desire cancels out anymore thoughts and you lurch forward. Your lips crash into his. Warmth twists a good kind of knot in your stomach. A fuzzy delight lingers in your brain as you reach up to cradle his face.

It's a delight that feels like home.

This is it. This is where you're meant to be. Home isn't a place, it's a person. It's Steve Rogers. Your home is Steve's perfectly messy life, his melancholy micro-expressions, his big stubborn heart, his loyalty to the helpless. It's everything about him. Home is in Steve's soft lips. And you're just begging to enter through the doors.

The second your finger grazes his cheek, the Captain breaks the kiss. He pulls away and guides your hand back into your lap. A tender swish of his head stirs a deep agony inside you.

"Yeah," you agree. How could be so stupid? Of course he doesn't feel that way. He has Sharon Carter. You gulp down a lick of shame and press your lips together to form a thin line. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, doll."

"Tony made brownies."

He squinted at you.

"I had one," you explain with an eye roll. "My guess is he added a special ingredient. Pot, to be more specific. I'd kill him if it wasn't for the ooze in my fist. But I guess there's I can do now. I already ate three."

This time the Captain let his gaze fall. He pursed his lips and flicked his eyes back up to you. Gusty winds of rage swarmed beneath the surface. "We'll see about that."


	2. Whiskey Fever: Sam Wilson

The room is cold. Freezing actually. You tried to meddle with the AC temperature. But all efforts subsided when you realized how complicated the device control panel seemed.

Stark must really have it out for the not-so tech savvy. That little devil probably set up your room specially for you to misunderstand how to adjust something as simple as the door handle. Which you clearly don't use for that very reason, and instead, choose to keep the door wide open.

To make your life at the new compound more complicated, the only room warm enough to put you to sleep would be the lobby in the bar. It's smart to have a layout of the ultimate comfort zone, you admit. But there's also the fact that it's in a bar. Stark's staff run through that place after long hours. No way you'll ever catch that place empty.

However, a single thought crosses your mind. A drink or two might just muster up enough warmth to act as a sleeping aid. But the reminder of a hangover permanently dispels that idea. Totally not worth it.

You sit up in the bed. Clutching your blanket tight against your body, you step onto the ground and roam the halls. Several turns here and there take you down a familiar corridor. You don't even realize where you've been heading until you approach the door. A single knock on the hard wood and you wait for a long moment.

The handle's electrical buzz and beep signifies its unlocking protocol.

Damn Stark and his paranoia.

You see the door crack open to reveal a wide-eyed and bushy-tailed Sam Wilson. He questions you with a nod and lowered brows.

"I'm cold."

His suspicious glare fades and is replaced by a cheeky grin. "You asking for tech support?"

Sam knows very well about your problem with Stark devices. In fact, the whole team pokes fun at you. Even Captain Rogers, who can barely navigate the compound himself. But there's a time and a place for jokes. Zero dark thirty, on the brink of muscle cramps, and standing on the icy floor in the middle of a hallway is neither the time nor the place.

You roll your eyes at the man and start to turn around.

Sam reaches out from his bedroom with ease and wraps an arm around the blanket covering your shoulders. "I'm just playing with you," he says. "C'mon." He guides you into his chambers and glances out into the hall before shutting the door. Sam sets up the lock protocol on the handle and turns around to focus back on you.

His lamp was already on when you entered the room and you realized he'd been rehashing some old HYDRA files. Papers cluttered the desk while another unopened file rested on the top. Your fingers traced the ink prints on the file. Sam cleared his throat, making you jump. Your fingers recoil and you look up at him.

He holds up a bottle of Tennessee Honey, waving it around a little.

"None for me," you tell him. "Thanks anyway."

"Suit yourself." Sam takes a swig from the bottle and gulps it down without strain. "Chicken shit," he teases with smirk.

You snicker at him. "I can kick your ass in no time at all." You jab a finger in his direction. "And you know it."

"Yet, you still too chicken shit to have a drink?" He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Shame."

Your narrowed eyes show defiance seething beneath the surface. Marching over to where he stands, you poke your hand out of the blanket and swipe the bottle. Your eyes stay on him as you gulp down the hard liquor. You expect the burning sensation to fill the back of your throat and ignite flames in your chest. But it goes down smooth. You form a fascinated expression and he smiles in return. Handing Sam the bottle, you nod in approval. "That's good." You clear your throat and decide to continue your earlier conversation. "Go on, keep taunting me," you say. "Because this is the part where you hang yourself with your own tongue. Trust me when I say I never back down from a challenge."

Sam steps closer towards you but is still far enough to not cross any boundaries. He wears a desirous grin while revere and awe sparkles in his eyes. "Bet you feeling pretty warm now."

You relax your grip on the blanket. Staring up at him, your smirk grows wide. So that's what his plan was. Get you all worked up just so you couldn't complain about the cold anymore. Two can play at that game. "Absolutely frosty."

A breathy chortle erupts from his throat and shakes his head. Sam brings the bottle to his lips again and moves past you. He sit on the edge of his bed. Patting down on the spot beside him, Sam urges you to do the same.

You tilt your head and flatten your lips into a thin line.

"Just sit, woman."

You roll your eyes, but comply anyway. Sam's arm wraps around your blanket-cloaked shoulders and he scoots closer so that his thigh touches yours. Your head rests in the nook of his neck and you breathe out a long-winded sigh.

The two of you just sit there for a moment. Neither one saying anything.

Sam's breath is steady and warm on your cheek. He smells of cinnamon spice and delicate vanilla mixed with the traces of whiskey and sweat.

Your body finally began to heat up while he held you close.

Sam downs another gulp of the Tennessee Honey. But he doesn't offer you another sip.

Watching his thumb outline the mouth of the bottle, you almost doze off right here.

His voice reverberates in his chest, keeping your mind sharp. "Ready to lose that blanket?"

"Hm?"

"It's seventy degrees in here. Ain't no way you can sit here and not be melting. What's really under that thing?"

You lift your head and look at him with a storm in your eyes. "I'm not nude, if that's what you're asking."

"I didn't say that." Sam takes his arm away. He glowers down at you. "Look, I know when someone's hiding something. Cough it up."

Your shoulders slump. You've been caught. The blanket slides of your shoulders and reveals the object in your hands. It's the AC control panel, in more pieces than you can count. "I kinda broke it."

He arched an eyebrow at you. A second passes by and he lets out a boisterous guffaw. You join him with a few weak chuckles. Sam shakes his head makes a smooth recovery. "So I was right, huh? You were looking for tech support."

You grin down at the broken device in your hand. Giving him a playful nudge with your shoulder, you mutter two words. "Shut up."


	3. Early Bird Special: Wanda Maximoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after AoU and before Civil War, based on the song "But I Do Love You" by Leann Rimes.

**_“I don't like to be alone in the night_ **   
**_And I don't like to hear I'm wrong when I'm right"_**

Missions are easy. The comedowns and the unwinding from a mission is the difficult part. One person makes a mistake and it's the only thing on the team's mind. No matter how big or small comparing the success of a partially completed mission versus the failure of it? The failure always sticks out the most.

Today's mission was just one of the many losses in the last few months. It had been tough since SHIELD fell. Everyone was still adapting to the new compound and the distraction really shone through the team's efforts. The dip in Avenger's average success rate had you all on edge.

It affected Wanda especially. She'd been having late nights and drowsy mornings the past few days. Which led to a rise in snappy retorts to Stark's heavily sarcastic put downs. You were starting to notice a little bit more acid in her tone. And just earlier, you had to break up a physical fight.

Though it shouldn't be called a fight. Wanda had him pinned to the wall. Vision couldn't break through to her but you could. Natasha and Clint applauded her after she calmed down.

When the night wore everyone down, and all the resident quarters were dark, only one light remained. It radiated from down the hall and bathed your room in sweet honey gold.

Wanda. No guess of where it originated could tell you otherwise. It's easy to know for sure. Suppressing her emotions isn't exactly her strong suit.

Placing a palm into the cushion of your bed, you quickly and swiftly rose to your feet. Maybe this instance in particular can give you the opportunity to cease any lingering tension. The girl needs some sleep. And you want to help. It's just the honorable thing to do.

Okay. So maybe your motives are a bit more ethically questionable than that. Your little crush on the enhanced mutant adds a certain silver-lining to your actions. But you know it's not gonna end in the way you desire. Which is totally okay because even the slightest amount of intimacy can hold you over for a while. A long while.

As you pad your bare feet down the corridor, your brain wracks in every direction. Playing out scenarios of how this could go while echoes of possible dialogue zoom past your sensory cortex. Although, none of it actually prepares you for what's about to happen.

You approach her open room with a knock on the doorframe. Peeking inside, you see Wanda sitting on her bed with her guitar in her lap. The sight stirs something deep inside you. You stifle a goofy smile.

Fingers strum once more over her guitar and she lifts her gaze up at you. She doesn't say anything. Only flashes you a warm smile.

"You're still awake," you observe.

She tilts her head at a scarce margin. Her voice is scrutinizing and yet maintains a fluttery undertone. "And you are not?"

You lower your gaze and a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. "I am," you say, meeting her gaze again. "But I wanted to see if you're okay."

"I'm tired," she says, "but I'm okay."

"May I come in?"

Wanda nods at an empty spot on her bed. She leans her guitar on the wall and settles into a more comfortable position.

You crawl onto the bed beside her. The two of you relax into a cozy silence and she leans her head on your shoulder. A few still moments pass before you comb your fingers through her hair. The displacement of her strands omit mixed fragrances of peach and honey. The aroma puts you in a slight trance, almost lulling you to sleep. In a barely audible whisper, you beg for her to let you in with four simple words. "Talk to me, Wanda."

"Stark's an ass."

You chuckle, caressing her shoulder for a second, you return to combing through her hair. "I can attest to that."

She sighs, her warm breath puffs at your chest. You watch her fingers dance with red flares just over your belly. "I can control things—move them—with my mind," states Wanda. "But I can't control _everything_ on the battlefield."

" _I_ know that."

A moment of silence goes by as she ignores my failed attempt to console her. Then she goes on to continue her thought. "He tells me I'm wrong for being different. That I'm the mistake. I know I'm not. I don't like to be told I'm bad for the gifts I have."

Apart from the occasional narcissistic remarks from Stark, everyone mostly staves off from pointing fingers. A trait like that has become something to expect from him. At least for you. But Wanda is still so new to the man and his teenaged 'tude. And it's clear that she's having trouble letting it roll of her back.

Your lips press a soft kiss on the edge of her hairline. "You stood up for yourself. That took a lot of courage. Something I wish I had more of."

The red magic dissipates in mid air. Wanda lifts her head to peer up at you. "You have more courage than you think."

Your features soften into a gloomy smile. "Thank you, Wanda." Watching her brown eyes beam at you, you can't help but fall more in love with her. Blinking your admiration away, you decide to change the subject. Maybe a distraction might ease her into a slumber. "You know something? I love rainstorms. And I love the thunder, and the wind howling, and just… the utter chaos of it all."

Her lips part and Wanda's eyes are filled with a baffled gleam. "I don't understand."

"Do you like the rain?"

Wanda's confused expression remains but she gulps and answers anyway. "I don't like when it soaks my shoes through to my socks."

"It's a beautiful combination of devastation and creation. That's what I think you are."

Her brows scrunch together but Wanda's mouth turns up in a grin. You can see as she takes offense to your words. "Thanks."

"No!" You chuckle and glance down at your lap. "No, I meant that even through all the bad things that might happen, you're still good. Your heart is pure and beautiful and warm."

Wanda sits up with a smug look on her face. You're reluctant to let your hand fall away from her, but do it anyway. She takes and holds it with you palm out. "I have an idea."

Turning your face slightly away, your narrowed eyes look at her suspicion.

"Let me enter your mind?"

Hesitant, you purse your lips. But you nod, curious to see what she wants.

"Close your eyes."

You obey and are instantly immersed in a stormy dream-like world. You're standing a foot away from Wanda who's still got a cheeky grin. Lightning flashes across the sky. Thunder cracks overhead and blink through a steady stream of raindrops. "What's going on?" You have to shout over the rain to ensure she can hear you. "Where are we?"

"You and I are still at the compound," she says. "Still in my room. But our consciousness have met in one place."

You blink at her. Stepping closer so she can hear you at an average volume, you realize that she brought you to the rainstorm. "I thought you didn't like the rain."

"I don't like when it soaks my feet," Wanda repeats. "It's not real, all this. When we wake tomorrow, I'll be all dry."

You smirk at her word choice. But you choose not to say anything. "You did this for me?"

"I do care about you," assures Wanda. "The way you care about me."

You gulp down a dry throat, feeling things suddenly get serious. Careful not to deny anything just yet, you wait for her to continue.

"You came to my room so I don't have to fall asleep alone. And I'm not, not anymore."

You scrunch up your mouth to one corner, giving off a humorous sparkle. "You never were."

_**"And I don't like to have the rain on my shoes  
But I do love you"** _

Wanda's eyes trace the outline of your lips and she leans in closer. Like a a magnet is pulling you forward, you do the same. When your lips meet another flash of lightning cracks across the sky and another clash of thunder erupts.

The dream world melts around you, shifting back into a darkness. Your eyes flick open. Glancing around the room in panic, you realize you're wrapped in Wanda's arms. Your head rested on her shoulder now while she smiled down at you.

"Good morning," she greets.

**_"I love everything about the way your lovin me_  
_The way you lay your head upon my shoulder when you sleep_  
_And I love to kiss you in the rain  
I love everything you do"_**

You relax again and press your lips into the crevice of her neck. "A good morning it is indeed."


	4. Warning Sign: Steve Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the latest installment of the MCU movies, Captain America: Civil War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Nat's and Tony's stories are in the works at the moment. I'm working on three different one-shots at the same time. They're all so great and I get inspired for all three in different spurts. So, it may take a while for me to finish just one.

Your muscles begin to cramp. This is the most uncomfortable position you've ever been in. Shifting your weight from one side to the other, you let out a little groan. The injuries from your previous run in with a HYDRA spy continued to ache. A few bruises here and some scratches there. Nothing you couldn't handle. But it was still painful as hell. The slightest movement brought on a whole new meaning of torment and torture.

Echoes of they city life bounced off the streets below and made its way to where you sat. The roof of an old apartment building seemed like as good a hiding place as any. Though, you admit it could also be the worst. If they have anything that can compare to the drones SHIELD had—before their dismemberment—you're totally SOL. However, from the looks of an empty sky, you were able to determine they either lack that kind of tech or just haven't figured out how to use it yet. Considering HYDRA's last super computer was almost a century old and all.

The hatch to the fire escape jangled. Panic set in. You reached for your gun and aimed in the direction of the door. With nothing but a cooling vent for cover, you concealed your center mass. It gave one more little squeak and burst open. A familiar face scanned the area. Immediate attention went straight to the barrel of your gun. Hands shot up in surrender.

Captain Steve Rogers stared at you with wide eyes. "At ease, soldier. Just me."

You let a relieved breath. The gun lowered and you attempted to rise from your hiding spot. The Captain hears your feeble whine and jumps to your aid. You mutter a mortifying thanks. Once you get to your feet, your eyes search his. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Nobody holds a gun quite like you do." His sarcastic tone vexed you.

You scowl at him.

"You called for an extraction, remember?"

You pressed your lips in a thin line. "Could've been that HYDRA dick luring you into a trap. Learn to be more careful next time."

His blond hair fell into his view as he shook his head. Steve's chuckle omitted from toothy grin. "Come on, let's get you outta here and back to the safe house."

The lines of your face crease into a grimace. "Yeah, about that. I'm not so sure I should go back."

"What are you talking about? Nat set up a welcoming committee of Jack, Jim, Johnnie and her old buddies of the Gold Symphony. And Sam and Buck are waiting to hear how this one went."

The desert in your mouth aches for the familiar taste of poison. "You really know how to convince a girl to stay, huh?"

A shift in balance causes the super soldier to lower his brows. His hands grip your shoulders and he casts a curious shadow over you. "What's the matter? Everything okay?"

"You know, working with the Avengers these past four years has been a common hell between doing what's right and committing crimes unspeakable."

"Whoa, where's all this coming from?"

You ignore him and continue on your path to end it all. "Wanna know the sickest part? I actually enjoyed it. I've stopped so much evil from spreading throughout the four corners of the world."

A light turns on in the Captain's head but he remains silent and let's you finish.

"But I think…" You lick your lips, regretting the action immediately. The crack over your bottom lip stings. Ignoring the pain, you push forward. "I think I'm finally done. I'm gonna turn myself in. Tony said he can get them to work out a deal for me."

"Tony contacted you?" He sighs in anguish and looks up at the sky before returning his focus on you. "Is he the one who put all these ideas in your head?"

You shake his hands off your shoulders and step away from him. Betrayal splays across your features. "This isn't about him. This is about me and what I want."

"That's not a no."

You scoff at the man. "You know what? I'm so sick of you acting all self-righteous. You're not better than me. I contacted Tony, if you must know. Not the other way around. Just because you and I have clashing ambitions doesn't mean either one of ours is better than the other."

"Clashing ambitions? Do you even hear yourself? That's all Stark talking."

"Nobody made me this way, Rogers. The person I am is the person who I chose to be. Just like I'm choosing to turn myself in." You spin on your heel. To the best of your ability, your feet stomp down the fire escape.

The Captain marches after you. Following at your speed, he continues his attempt to sway you back to his side. "You'll be making a mistake if you do this. This isn't SHIELD we're talking about anymore. This is the United States government. They don't play by the same rules we're used to."

"If you're wondering whether or not I might spill the beans on your secret hideout, I can handle a little torture, Steven. That's not a problem."

"I know that. But—

"But what? You think I can't do this? That I'm too weak and that they'll break me?"

"That's not what I'm trying to say. I just think it would be wise to take caution when dealing with those kinds of people."

"Right," you say. You spin around on the very last step and glare up at the man. "Because you're wiser than me. As if I hadn't thought about that earlier." Turning around again, your feet guide you to the door. You push lightly and emerge from the building. You're faced with a back alley. The odor is worse than anything you've ever encountered. But it is New York. Never know what you're gonna find behind a building.

The Captain grunts from behind you. "I see some things never change."

You glower at him. Rolling your eyes, a scoff growls from within. You start walking out toward the street.

The strength of a super soldier holds you back. "We're not done here."

You curl your lip in confusion. "Okay but can we at least take our unfinished discussion elsewhere? This place is rancid."

He says nothing, only giving you a curt nod. Pulling you toward the street, he's gentle enough to make his motives sympathetic but also strong enough to make his grip on your firm. He guided you to the only car parked along the street. A little cyan Volkswagen Bug sat adjacent to the sidewalk.

"You couldn't have picked a smaller car?"

"German car; only car I know how to steal."

You roll your eyes and climb in. "Figures."

He shuts the door to your side and takes the driver's seat. Starting the car, the old man Cap picks up speed like he's driving Miss Daisy in the back seat rather than you in shotgun.

Flipping out at all the traffic he's causing, you twist in your seat. A hasty fit of glances from back to front captures his attention.

"What?" His eyes peek at the mirror. "What's going on?"

Settling into the leather, you watch him with wide eyes. "You drive like a grandma. Hurry up!"

"A friendly reminder for the next time you wanna insult me: I was frozen in time! This car is too new; it's gonna take a while for me to adjust."

You growl at the man. Through a narrow view you monitor him. "I'm tired of you moping around and acting all, 'Oh, woe is me! I was frozen in time!' Guess what? Well over seventy years have passed while you were glaciered and hanging out with the Sebastian under the sea. It's time to wake up. Cars have changed. Cars are very different from how they were a century ago."

Rogers gives you a side glare. "You're not talking about cars," he observes.

"You're very astute, Captain. Good thing your wisdom is equal that of Oz the great and powerful."

He shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "This again?

"People are cruel, Rogers. Cruel, and manipulative, and flat-out evil. Maybe you're right. Approaching the government with caution would be wise. But so is the deal Tony set up for me."

"You realize what this will mean, right? I'm fighting a war against these guys and you want to go and join them. No one will forgive you for this."

"Nuh-uh. Never said I was going to join them."

Curiosity twinkles in his eye. You can tell he wants to hear more about this 'deal' Tony set up for you. Be Captain America doesn't ask questions he's not sure he wants the answer to. Only the ones that mean the most.

"So, go ahead," you continue. "Fight them. I won't be standing by your side. And I won't be by theirs. I've been beaten to a pulp, water boarded to death, and brought back to life only to see your sorry ass go through the same thing."

"What does that have to do with anything."

"Look around, Cap! No one else cares what we go through everyday. They just sit on their high horses and get what they want without much effort. Thanks to the effort we put in for them. My point is, I'm tired of fighting for people who won't appreciate my sacrifice. I'm done. I'm just… done."

"What does it matter if they care or not? Saving the ungrateful doesn't make them any less deserving of it."

You shake your head. "Nobody ever asked to be saved, not by me. Or you, for that matter. We don't have to keep fighting. We can be free. But you choose war over anything else."

Rogers, pulls the car over and parks somewhere beneath a freeway overpass. "They shouldn't have to ask! That's the point. I choose to save people so they don't have to ask to be."

"Call me selfish but maybe I'd like to have a wedding one day. Or even an actual job that I'd receive an actual paycheck for." You open the door, letting the breeze wrestle with your hair. Stepping out of the car, your injuries scream at you to stop moving. A groan escapes your lips as you ease yourself back on the front hood of the car. You take in a deep breath and let it out as a long-winded sigh.

Mirroring your position, the Captain jogs over to your side and waits patiently for you to continue.

"I can't get that if all I do is run around in the streets and play Catch That Spy. Which, if ya haven't noticed, kinda kicks that dream out of the ballpark, and beyond."

His head bows while his words float in the air. "The role of a soldier is to put aside our own hopes and dreams so that others can have theirs."

"Maybe so. But you don't really believe that, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You use it as an excuse not to deal with the changing world around you. The second you step on the battleground all your focus is on defeating the enemy. Which is why you never stop fighting. And why you were resistant to move on from Peggy. At least until Sharon came along."

"Leave them out of this," he growls at you. "What that hell is the matter with you?"

"You pride yourself on being the man who was made for war. But nah, you're just a man who's afraid of living in peace. It bothers you that the possibility of having a normal life is more than just within reach. It's right in front of you. But like I said, you're too afraid."

"That's not true. There's always a war to be fought."

"And it always has to be you to fight it, right? Well, not me, not anymore."

"I don't let people die because it's the lesser of two evils, or expedient, or because it serves the greater good. I don't compare the act against something else and I certainly don't use it to as a distraction. I see someone who needs help and I help. You think it's a weakness, you think it's simple but you're wrong. It's what makes us human which is exactly what we're supposed to be fighting for. I know who I am. I rescue the helpless. I raise up the hopeless. I don't measure people's lives, I save them. And I do it because I care."

Your attention snaps up then bounces sideways to him. "What, and you think I don't?"

"I don't know what to think."

You do a slow burn over the world in front you. "I care about these people more than they care about themselves."

"Then join me. Join me in battle so we can save them all together."

"There's some manipulation for you. I can't believe this. You just never quit."

"I can go at it all day."

"That right there is why I don't like you. You're stubborn, and you're always preaching to do what's right for everyone else. But god forbid if we ever live for ourselves. Lookie-here! The great Captain America shoves his moral compass in the face of any who disagree and instantly labels them an enemy."

He looks taken aback. Steve couldn't have foreseen that. "I could never see you as my enemy."

"But you did Stark. And now I'm betting I'm next."

"He was trying to kill my friend. Your friend too, if you care to recall."

You shake your head with a roll of your eyes. Walking backwards, you let the words fall out of your mouth with ease. "Whatever. Look, I gotta jet. I'm already late. I'm done wasting my time here. I've said everything I needed to say. I'm out." You spin around and leave him standing there with his stolen car.

"You don't want to do this," he calls after you.

"Whatever."

"I'm serious!"

"Whatever!"

The second you arrive outside the compound, guards swarm to your vehicle. Maybe Captain America only knew how to steal German cars. But you, however, learned how to Hotwire a Mercedes-Benz. A specialty trick shown to you by your dear friend, Natasha Romanoff.

Guns raised, they shout for you to slowly roll down the window.

You respectfully yield to their commands and the tinted glass recedes. One guard in particular lunges at you, shoving the barrel of his rifle in through the open space. You barely have time raise your hands above your head before he drives it into your shoulder. A guttural groan escapes your clenched jaw.

"Don't move."

You shoot him an evil eye. "Do I look like I'm in the position to move?"

The guard squeezes his walkie and speaks to whomever is on the other side. "Commander, this is X-Ray-Four-Nine-Four. I got eyes on a fugitive. Over."

An unfamiliar voice speaks through the radio. "X-Ray-Four-Nine-Four, this is your commander speaking. I order you to eliminate the threat. Over."

Your eyes widen and a bang rings in your ears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Ending:
> 
> White light surrounds you. High-pitched whistles deafen the sounds around you. A fraction of a second goes by and you begin to think this might be what heaven is. Fluttering your eyes, you notice a dark shape moving through an ivory smoke.
> 
> Captain Steve Rogers steps into view. Even through the annoying ring you can hear the vibrato in his voice. "I warned you."
> 
> "Whatever."


	5. Angerball: Sam Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Totally not canon compliant. Mixed up elements of the MCU are all amuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Nat and Tony's stories are in the works but I couldn't help myself. I promise this time either Nat or Tony will make it into the next chapter.

You knew this day was coming. A mental reminder marked this calendar date. It'd been years. But the events of what happened on this day so long ago left your heart scalding, steam rising off the fresh burns. Nothing like a little reminiscing to boil your blood.

Midday sun beamed over your features. A headache from your adventures of the previous night throbbed in your skull. Sweat caked your hair, making the strands stick to your face. You grimaced and groan into your mattress.

A bed was usually the most comfortable place to be. But today, the broken, yet salvageable, pieces of your world seemed to become bitter and displeasing. Even your safe space, your room, came off as rotten. Nothing brought you joy.

Tossing the blanket over your body, you launched out of bed and marched down the hall. The wait for the elevator took forever. But eventually, the doors sprung open and you stepped inside. Ordering Jarvis to take you down to the bar, your voice croaked with a certain edge.

In your pajamas, you made straight for the liquor.

The surrounding colleagues didn't notice your presence at first. Tony and Bruce lounged lazily on the socializing platform. While Sam sat with them, he didn't partake in much of the conversation. Thor, Nat, and Vision appeared engrossed in their own discussion over by the bar stools. A rare sight to see, what with Thor constantly being on Asgard nowadays.

As you nodded at the barista, your unkempt fashion statement earned you a few strange glances. "Fetch me something strong," you told the girl behind the bar. "A whole bottle of it."

She responded with a polite gesture and searched for a drink to match the criteria. A few glass bottles clanked together and her hand lifted in the air. The girl held up a hefty bottle of some dark liquor. "This okay?"

"As long as you promise a dangerously high percentage."

She smiles and hands over the bottle.

You thank her with a slight bow of your head and take it from her. Spinning around, you're met with a mixture of dismayed glares and befuddled stares. "What?!" you snap. No one answers right away, which makes you meet the gaze of everyone in the room. They're all standing now, the tension rising in the air. "Come on," you say. "You can't all have a visual impairment at the same time. Seriously, what's with the staring?"

Vision offers up an explanation. "It comes as a surprise to us all that you, who are quintessentially against alcoholic abuse, would make such a delicate request."

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

The highly attuned redhead interjects. "He's saying that you might want to be careful with that. Seems harmless now, but it can turn into a serious disease."

"Okay. For one," you asserted. Prepared to begin with a solid defense, you make a sharp swivel on your heel. You're suddenly faced with three capricious superheroes. "I am not Tony."

"Hey!" His booming voice travels across the room without strain.

Disregarding the wounded, you proceed. "—I know what I'm doing," you tell them. "And secondly, it's not your place to make judgments. Especially when it comes to things you can't fully understand. Do not question me again."

Natasha, offended, lowers her eyebrows and careens her ear in your direction. "That's no way to treat your allies."

You huffed. Shaking your head, you make for the elevator again. Better shut up and leave before something worse comes out of your mouth.

Bruce speaks up now, his tone full of enraged confidence. "Where do you think you're going?"

Holding up the bottle as you turn to him. "Drink!" You watch as the room fills of concerned glances. "I'm being treated worse than your science buddy and no one seems to notice the difference! So I'm leaving now to dissuade myself from becoming such a burden."

The room was silent. You made eye contact with Sam but he looked away in shame.

You raised your hand in the direction of the elevator and let it fall to slap your thigh. The words fall out of your mouth with a quick-paced animosity. "Can I go or do I need your permission?"

Bruce sighed and slunk back into a chair on the platform. His awkward lack of response tells you more than anything he could say. The good doctor doesn't approve, but he knows he can't stop you. In fact, they all know they can't stop you.

You dip your head in a sarcastic salute and leave them to stir in their own agitation. Jarvis takes you up to your residential floor of the tower. A swift twist and the bottle cap is sent spiraling on the carpet. You plant yourself on the ground, adjacent to the bed and parallel to the nightstand. Distracting thoughts surface and you bury it back down with more gulps of liquor.

You can't tell how long you've sat there. But it was long enough that the sun fell away. The only light left was from the automatic corridor lights. Jarvis turns those on as soon as darkness surrounds. With everything but the lights off, your floor is so silent that even the dead would want some noise.

That being said, you could hear when Jarvis introduced a new arrival. The speaker only broadcasts in front of the elevator.

You made sure Tony didn't have any tech in the privacy of your own room. He hated you for a long while after hearing that you tore out any wires that you felt crossed the boundaries. Most of which were expensive. But hell, the guy was rich. What did he care?

Jarvis' voice echoes through the empty halls. "Sam Wilson is arriving at your level."

This is the second time today you grimaced and groan off to the side.

It's not long before you hear his smooth voice call your name. Sam's foot steps travel around and down the hall. He slows his pace as he approached your open door. "Hey." Stopping right outside, he leans on the framework. "The hell you doing sitting in the dark, huh?"

You blink up at his silhouette. What little light there is only provides you with enough visual ability to see the whites of his eyes. But that's all it takes to see the genuine heart he carries around. You shrug. "I like the dark."

He clicks his tongue and twists his body away from you. The light cloaks his features for just a second and you see the humor in his toothy grin.

At least he understood it was a half-hearted joke. You liked that about him. Sam understood the irony of things, often pointing them out himself if no one else did. He knew what it was to joke about something and still really mean it. Not a quality you would usually find in people who performed in your line of work.

Sam stepped forward. Taking a seat next to you, he let out soft groan and plopped down on the carpet. He brought his knees up and rested his arms on top. "How much you had to drink?"

"So that's what you're up here for; baby sitting duties. Did Nat send you? Or was it big daddy Bruce?"

"I came 'cause I wanted to," he declared. Your eyes slowly meet his. He offers a sympathetic smile. Switching his gaze to the door, he chuckles lightly. "Besides, Nat would be better suitable for big daddy. Bruce is the awkward little brother."

You match his chuckle with your own and follow his line of sight. "Yeah, you're right." A sense calm washes over you. It's about time you admit something to him. "I topped off more than half the bottle."

He snaps his focus from the door to you. Disbelief and distress storms in his eyes.

You grin at peek at him from the side. "Knew that'd capture your attention."

"You must be lying. 'Cause you ain't slurring."

The grin aches in your cheeks as it grows wider. "No, I really did. Look!" You hold up the bottle and sure enough the bottle is half empty.

He swipes the bottle from your hands. "Lemme see that." You watch as he reads the label. Curious eyes search yours. "Two and a half percent?"

"That damn bartender jipped me."

Sam's shoulders slumped in relief. "Well, for good a reason obviously. She must've seen your wrath from miles away."

"Yeah…"

"What the hell was all that down there anyway? Something you wanna talk about?"

Your eyes widen for a second and quickly return to normal. "No thanks."

"You sure? I do run a Vet's group therapy and it helps to talk about whatever's troubling you."

The tension in your expression says it all. But in case he doesn't get the message you add in the extra words. "I said no thanks."

"All right, calm down. I'm just trynna help."

You take the bottle from him and place it on the ground. With a sharp sigh, your hand jets toward the door. "I don't need your help. You should leave."

Sam looks at you, his lips parted, his brows lowered. He just scoffs and shakes his head. Rising from his seat on the ground, Sam folds and starts toward the elevator.

You expected one last effort from him but it doesn't come. His unpredictability makes you realize your mistake.

"Shit!" You curse at your self and stand up. Chasing after him at a jog, you call for him. "Sam, wait."

He stops and turns. Silent as ever, Sam's contempt glare scrutinizes you.

"I don't know how to…" You hesitate before continuing. A gulp clears the way to your throat and you speak again. "I'm not good at feeling things. I-I lash out when I'm upset and I didn't mean for anything that happened to today or what I just said to hurt anyone."

Sam shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "So you gonna say? You gonna say the words?"

It takes you a moment to get to his level. But once you do, you feel uncomfortable that he was able to see right through you. You bat your lashes down at the ground then look back up at him. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Good, that's good." He nods at you, relaxing his shoulders. "But you still got problems. I'm not trynna make it mine, but you need someone to talk to. If it ain't gon' be me then who?"

You take another gulp. "Look, I'm not ready to talk about my problems just yet. Can't we just forget about it and come back to it later?"

Sam sighs and steps closer to you. "You're never gonna be ready."

You shut your eyes tight. Reopening them, you see that Sam is now inches away. "Several years ago to the date, some really bad shit happened to me. Okay? I wish I could tell you more but I can't. I really, really can't."

Sam blinks at you with sad eyes. "Bad shit happens to everybody these days. I wish you could tell me more too." Turning around he heads for the elevator.

You call after him but to no avail. Another screw up in just several hours' time.

 


	6. One Last Ride: Natasha Romanov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after the events of Captain America: Civil War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY DID IT. AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

How many lives has she saved? Many, would be her answer to anyone who's asking. Though, she may never express the exact number, but you better believe she knows it. Natasha will probably never know the number of how many she's had to end. The psychological torture of what they did to her in the Red Room made her forget things. Sometimes, worse things than she could imagine.

But she was growing tired of keeping track. She'd been kicked around from the KGB all the way to HYDRA. She thought she knew whose lies she was telling. But that's just it, they all seemed like lies to her now. Natasha ditched the Soviet Army so she could be who she wanted. So she could be her true self—despite hiding under an alias of course. Only she just replaced one bad alliance for another.

In all the training she'd gone through, all the drugs they put in her system, Nat realized that only one person understood how she felt. And that was herself.

The merry band of Avengers regarded her as someone too cold inside to be warm on the outside. They trusted her enough to fight by her side, but they were afraid of her enough to be cautious when standing too close. No one else made an effort to really know her. No one else but you.

Nat knew from the beginning that you had a schoolyard crush on her. But the feelings weren't mutual. Not right away. She started off as throwing hints in your direction that she wasn't into you. Standing on the opposite side of the room, avoiding a crossover into your path, blatantly disregarding whenever you spoke.

Eventually you caught wind that she knew of your crush. That's when you made sense of the way she was acting towards you. After several more dicey incidents between the two of you, you had to remind yourself to step down. A purely professional relationship is all she wanted from you. And you understood that.

Several months passed and neither of you had spoken more than five consecutive words to each other outside of missions.

Natasha was beginning to see how much it pained you to deny how bad you had it. But that's not how she realized she cared about you more than she knew. It was the day after she left the New Avengers Facility. And the exact day Steve pulled strings to get most of the team out of the Raft.

From the Hellicarrier, Natasha watched as Sam propped you up against himself and aided you out of that hell. The urge to run down there and carry you back up herself was dismissed with the thought of keeping the escape vehicle steady. She couldn't pinpoint what she felt in that moment. All she knew was that it almost killed her to see you hurt. As soon as everyone was safely aboard the Hellicarrier, she initiated autopilot and went straight to you.

Her voice safely locked away any sign of panic. But in that effort, Natasha came off as angry and bitter. "Hey, what the hell happened?"

As she approached you on the fold out bed, she noticed your foot is elevated on a stool. It's already covered in gauze while an ice pack from the first aid kit tightly wrapped along with it.

"Long story," you replied. Your tone remained calm and aloof. Pairing the words with an uncaring shrug, you bounced your gaze around the room. Everything but her held your attention. "Kicked ass, crushed some bones."

Natasha suddenly felt uneasy. She should've expected you to react with a bland attitude. Blinded by whatever emotion it was that brought her to you, she hoped she would get more than that. Pursing her lips, she lifted her chin and turned to leave again. "Well," she said. The words come out as caring yet still firm. "Keep it on ice."

With that hanging in the air, you watch as she zoomed back to wherever she came from. Your brows pulled together. You stared desperately at the spot where she'd been.

Clint wandered over to your side.

You peered up at him, an unspoken question in your eyes.

He scrunched his mouth into one corner. "She wouldn't ask if she didn't care."

A sense of shame washed over you. Quickly hiding it from view, you press your lips into a sad, yet humorous smile. "I didn't think she could."

Clint's disappointed glare caused you to look away from him. "Kid, she's not sociopath, c'mon!" He let out a gruff sigh and sat beside you on the bed. "Look, I've known Nat a long time."

"Clearly," you interjected. "She got to meet your family before the rest of us did."

He snapped a dirty look at you. "Are you gonna keep being a jerk or can I finish?"

You rolled your eyes. But as you tossed your hand in the air, Clint nodded his brief gratitude.

"Nat's been the only person I trusted most on this team. And I think I've been the same for her. But ever since the two of you have met, I noticed something in her change. Nat thinks she's smart and can hide her emotions but I'm smarter and I can find them."

You twisted your neck in his direction. "What're you trying to say?"

A smug grin tangled Clint's mouth into an ugly mug. "She's in the pilot's cabin." He pat your good leg and rose from his seat.

Your bewildered gaze stayed on his back. "Wait," you hissed. But it was too late. He was already too far away to hear your whisper.

A groan escaped your lips and you rose from the fold out bed. You used the walls of the Hellicarrier to guide you along the way. With your heart set on the pilot's cabin, you made your way for Natasha.

When you reached the door, you hesitated before knocking. You didn't know what to expect. What if Clint was wrong? What if she did care but it's just not the way you felt? Before you could ask yourself another "what if" the door was sliding open.

It was bigger than you thought, capable of holding up to twenty people. Natasha sat in the pilot's seat. Her eyes were darting across the window turned computer screen.

Tony created this thing, and you really couldn't expect any less from him.

"You just gonna stand there?" Her voice comes as a surprise. You didn't think she was aware of your presence.

Hobbling inside, you continued to scale the wall until you reached an empty co-pilot seat. The sound of the door sliding closed echoes in the oversized cabin. You plopped down and glanced over at her with an awkward cough.

Natasha keeps her focus on the flight. The thought of putting that Hellicarrier on autopilot again scared her more than ever. It meant she'd have to look at you again. And she was no longer sure she could hide her true self from you anymore.

Her eyes rapidly scan across the screen, finding something to focus on. Inside, she begged for at least the oxygen to run out. Maybe if the machine needed her somewhere else she wouldn't have to saturate herself with whatever tension was creeping up her neck.

Deciding it was worthless to worry about nothing, she finally pressed autopilot. Natasha knew there was no way around this now. She turned her chair in your direction and stared at you with her beautiful green eyes. "Why are you in here?"

You, surprised, blinked at the red haired woman. A moment went by and you didn't answer.

Natasha's eyebrows raised and she leaned forward. Pressing for a response, her head tilted just slightly.

Your stammering came as no use. "I, uh… You know…"

"Speak, you're not a child."

A frustrated sigh spilled from your lips. You slumped back into the chair. "I can't stand you, Natasha."

Natasha recoiled but managed to appear calm. She waited for you to explain yourself.

"Every time you do this to me," you begin. "Every time you act cold a-and bitter, I can't stand you. I know you found out about my interest in you. I just didn't think you were the type to hate me for it."

Natasha shook her head. "I don't hate you."

"Then why treat me like this? Why not just tell me to stop flirting? I had to find out from someone else that you didn't appreciate it."

Natasha rose from her seat and stepped closer to you. Stepping one leg over your lap so that she straddled you, she leaned her face close to yours. Her lips were barely an inch away. "I enjoyed the attention. And I wanted more of it."

You narrowed your eyes at the woman. She meant so much to you, and she had just admitted to using you. Now you're heart was broken, mangled, and enraged all together. "You manipulated me?"

"It started out that way," she declares. Her eyes followed the outlines of your jaw. Her breath warmed your cheeks. Natasha placed her gentle fingers under your chin.

The way she parted her lips brought desires you didn't want to deny any longer. But you had to resist. She needed to know she can't have you because of the attention. If she wanted you, Natasha would have to want all of you.

She wanted nothing more than to close the space between you. All that subatomic supersonic extra space. But she had more to say. "But after a while, I craved you."

You lashes fluttered at her words. Whispers cracked through your tone. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Natasha closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on yours. "I don't know. I made up so many excuses. But none of them were right."

You closed your eyes and scrunched your brows together. A passionate kiss twisted your lips with hers. But as soon as it began, you pulled away.

Natasha sighed and slunk away.

You turn your face away from her while your grief-stricken eyes remained. "I can't just forget that all this time you made me feel unwanted."

She took her leg back and sat down in the chair again. "I know." Natasha stared out the window, her focus reached the distant horizon.

"I care about you," you tell her, "so much more than just a crush. But I'm not sure where to begin with us. I mean, we never even talked like mature adults."

Natasha nodded. Her lips pursed and her brows knitted together.

"Nat, say something."

She bit the inside of her bottom lip. Looking down, her vermillion hair covered her pained expression. "I want you to be happy. When I saw you out there, Sam carrying you on board, I knew something inside me just broke. You were hurt and I wasn't there to help you."

"Don't put that blame on yourself, you had to keep this thing in the air."

Natasha nodded again. "I know, but that's not what I'm trying to say. I guess… what I meant to say was that I don't want to see you get hurt anymore. I don't want espionage to ruin you, and I'm tired of it continuously breaking me down."

"Natasha, I don't understand."

"After we reach land," she said. Lifting her head she frowned at you. "And after we safely make it out of Tony's reach, I'm gonna quit."

"Natasha!"

"And I want you to join me." She searched your expression for an answer.

You shook your head with caution. "I don't know. What about all the people who need our help? Clint, Wanda, Steve… they can't do it all on their own."

Her gaze fell but she was quick to bring it back up to you. "I understand if you don't want to come with me," insisted Natasha, "but this is something I have to do. I don't want this life anymore. I've made a lot of mistakes because of the life I chose. Broke so many promises, killed so many people, destroyed so many families. But I've got a feeling that I'm ready to leave it all behind."

"Sounds like you've had this on your mind a while now."

Natasha's features tensed but she recovered with a swift tuck of her hair behind her ear.

"If I…" you hesitate, unsure if you want to ask the question. Licking your lips, you realized that the answer would be worth it in the end. Whether you like it or not, at least you would have known. "If I never came in here, and you be honest with me, Natasha. Would you even have said goodbye?"

The look on her face was enough of a response to reveal the answer. But as if she needed to be sure you didn't mistake her expression, she voiced her honest answer.

"Wow," you sighed. Watching the ocean sway through the window, you stay silent.

Natasha's body is stiff in your peripheral vision. You can feel her hard gaze burning into your side. She sits up all of a sudden and returns to manning the pilot controls.

Land soon comes into view and the two of you realize that time is running out. Both of you wonder if you'll ever get the chance to see each other again. Your current choice is teetering on the edge of her past choices.

As she's finding a safe place to berth, you took one last sideways glance at Natasha. Her cinnabar-colored hair sways as she moves along the control panel. You're not sure when you'll ever see that kind of beauty again.

You inhale a deep breath. Your decision blurted out. Along with the path that it take you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you choose?


	7. Thrice Unforgiven: Steve Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the events of Captain America: Civil War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on lyrics from the song "Unforgiven III" by Metallica.
> 
> "How can I be lost?  
> In remembrance I relive  
> And how can I blame you,  
> When it's me I can't forgive?"

True love only happens once. You knew it. Steve knew it. His love for Peggy left a gaping hole that just can't be filled. Not even by you. It burned in the back of his mind every time he went to kiss you. Every time his fingers touched your skin Steve imagined Peggy. Her dark curls, a halo around her cheeks. The little twitch of her lips when she stifled a smile.

All the subtlety in the world couldn't hide it. Steve realized you were starting to notice his intrepid imagination took him places you weren't. He first saw the spark in your eye dim slightly. Then the warm hugs lingered a few extra seconds. Like you were holding him for the last time. Then the hugs stopped all together. Your kisses turned to quick pecks, your lips barely grazing his.

He loved her, and he loved you. Why couldn't he just be okay with that? No, he knew why.

You were no Peggy Carter.

He beat himself up inside for comparing the two of you. Neither of you deserved it. And you were nothing alike. Still, his heart betrayed him.

Steve knew it made things worse when he called you by her name once.

"What did you just call me?" You stiffened in place. Eyes wide, heart racing, your shock rippled in the tension.

"I…" Steve's voice trailed off. His features mirrored your own. "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me."

"Yeah," you agreed. A lump rose in your throat. That's when you shook your head and gulped it back down. "No. No, I'm glad you said it."

He observed you behind a deeply saddened gaze.

"I know you love me," you started. "And I know you always will. But I can never live up to Peggy's image in your eyes."

Steve stepped closer to you, reaching out to console you.

You stepped back in time let his fingers grasp at empty air. It wasn't a harsh gesture, but it was still awful. Watching him with blurred vision, you saw his expression change. He was so hurt to see you back away. Your heart twisted inside your chest. "I love you, Steve. So much more than you could ever know. And I deserve the same in return."

"And you have it, darling."

"Then stop lying to yourself." Your words nearly knocked Steve backwards. You wanted nothing more than to take it back right then. But there was no use now. "If you can't leave her memory behind, then you can't love me in the way I that I deserve."

Steve knew you were right that day. He knew that the relationship you had with him wouldn't amount to anything good.

Which was why he was relieved to hear you say that you were leaving him. He thought he had so much courage. He'd fought wars, kicked Hitler's ass, defeated so many HYDRA agents. Yet, he couldn't muster up the courage to let you down himself.

There was still a moment between the emotional chaos and the reality of losing you. Steve was glad for a tiny sliver of a second that no one else knew about your relationship. Of course, Natasha knew; nothing gets past her. But the rest of the team didn't have a clue.

With the Sokovia Accords separating the Avengers in two, your break up might have had a worse effect on the decisions everyone was making.

Most of the regret he felt before was replaced with the comfort of knowing he couldn't hurt you anymore. Steve knew he trapped you in a predominantly one-sided relationship. It was liberating to know he didn't have to lie to you about his true feelings. Though, he never did before. It just felt better to be sure that if the topic ever popped up he wouldn't feel an obligation to hide behind a dodgy cover up.

The day after the two of you broke up, news of Peggy's passing spread across the globe. Steve immediately dropped everything to be in London for her funeral. Out of respect for both of them, so did you, Natasha, and Sam.

Sharon gave her eulogy, thus revealing her relation to the former Peggy Carter.

You took your first glance at Steve. He didn't seem to know that Peggy was her aunt after all. You realized your heart was breaking into a million pieces just then. You looked away. The sight of him made you sick to the stomach. Not in an angry or bitter way. But in way that ignited high levels of intense guilt.

It was one hit after another. You broke up with Steve, he lost the one person he loved more than you, and then he found out the agent who spied on him in Brooklyn was related to the latter. You knew it was completely irrational, but you blamed yourself for everything that went wrong in his life. Even if it was out of your control.

Deep down inside, so did Steve. He blamed you for being the first domino of many to fall. But how could he? How could he do that to you? It wasn't your fault. It was his. He was a man who set off at sea and was pulled off course by the light of golden treasure. Steve was on his path to Peggy. Then it was his choice to be with you. And as mutual as it was in the beginning, Steve lost sight of your light and wanted to get back to the sea of memories—to Peggy.

At the moment, however, you were the last thing on his mind. The Sokovia Accords had his attention almost as much as Sharon did. It was just revealed to him that an old neighbor of his was related to the very woman he mourned. When the services ended, Steve found Sharon in the crowd.

You watched as their conversation took them outside the church. It was chilly night by then. You held your arms tight against your body and made for the door as well. Following them wasn't the plan, getting to the heated car was.

Sam emerged from a sea of people in front of you and let out a sigh of relief. "Hey. Take a look at this."

He promptly shoved his phone into your hands. It was a news report. Someone bombed the United Nations building in Vienna. And from the image the news reporter showed on the screen, it didn't appear to be just anybody. It was Bucky.

"We need to find Steve."

He gave you a crazy look. "What'd you think I've been trying to do?"

The two of you left the church to find Steve and Sharon in the parking lot. They stood beside her car. Probably chatting about things less interesting than what you saw in that news report.

You let Sam show them the video on his own and instead started towards the you all arrived in. Natasha left earlier on the quinjet. She's supposed to be in Vienna as well. You hoped she was safe.

Days passed and soon Bucky sat in a lone chamber in Wakanda. The events of actually getting him there weren't easily achieved. You, Sam, and Steve fought to get him somewhere safe only you got caught by the CIA. Which also happened to be Sharon's task force.

The three of you, along with Sharon, got to watch as Bucky was interrogated. You immediately noticed Steve's tension around the interrogator. His heightened intuition is never wrong.

A bomb went off in the building and knocked the electricity out. Sharon called a diversion to the opposite wing of the building. Steve went for Bucky. Sam was the exit strategy. You were the backup plan; just in case things got out of hand. Which, they always do.

Bucky came out of the building only to run straight into your trap. You essentially dragged him to an abandoned warehouse and chained him to a pipe. Sam and Steve interrogated him themselves and you stood back and watched.

Steve started first. "Which Bucky I talking to?"

"You're mother's name was Sarah," Bucky responded. He appeared coherent enough but Steve wasn't convinced. Not yet. You watched as he went on. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

"You can't read that in a museum."

"Just like that," Sam spoke up, "we're supposed to be cool?"

"What did I do?" Bucky asked. The tone of his voice broke your heart a little.

"Enough," Steve replied.

More questioning revealed that the interrogative doctor wanted to know how to get to Siberia. Particularly, the part of Siberia where Bucky was held captive by HYDRA. He intended to release all the other Winter Soldiers that HYDRA created along side Bucky.

A confused little Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "He said he wanted to see an empire fall."

"With these guys," Buck said, "he can do it. They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in 1 night. You'd never see them coming."

Sam looked to you. "This would be easier if…"

"If we call Tony," Steve interjected.

"Oh," said Sam, "he won't believe us."

"Even if he did, who knows if the Accords would let him help. We're on our own."

"Maybe not." Sam's hopeful words lit up Steve's eyes. "I know a guy."

Sam's "guy" took you all to a secret location somewhere under a freeway on ramp. As it turned out, Sharon was the extra hand behind a CIA smoke screen. She brought yours, Sam's, and Steve's gear.

You were squeezed tight against the Winter Soldier in the backseat. It was beginning to feel cramped. Sam had shotgun. He kept a careful eye on the surrounding city. Looking out for his best friend while Steve and Sharon conversed behind the car.

Finally, Bucky blurted out his thoughts. "Can you move your seat up?"

"No," Sam swiftly denied.

You gave an apologetic look to Bucky. Then gave it a go. "For me, Sam."

An exasperated grumble erupted from deep within his chest. But he complied and moved the seat forward.

You thanked Sam and gave Bucky a courteous smile. He, in turn, thanked you and adjusted himself. The pressure of his bulky metal arm was no longer on you. There was enough space to look back at Steve and Sharon.

When you did, three words left your mouth in a deadpan tone. "Oh my god."

Steve's lips were infused with Sharon's.

You peeled your gaze away. Looking back at the two men sitting in the car, you saw the smug grins stuck on their faces. Your narrowed eyes had no effect. You just rolled your eyes back and slammed yourself into the seat.

That didn't take long. He goes around telling people he loves them then does that? And right in front of your damned face! What the hell happened to that guy's heart?

As Steve climbed back into the car he realized what he'd just done. Sam and Bucky snickered in a unified humor. But the reminder of you in the backseat completely slipped his mind. All the guilt he felt before was now tripled over.

He tries to catch your eye in the mirror. Failing, he noticed your focus was dead set on something out the window. He studied your features as he started the car.

Your nose was turning red and your eyes were beginning to water. He did that to you.

Steve set his heart on Peggy. And lost his way with you. You were that glint of treasure calling him out. He blames you. But it's himself he can't forgive. Slowly, though, he can feel the wind in his sails setting him back on the right course. Setting him with Sharon.


	8. A World of Hurt: Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Captain America: Civil War. It started out as one thing and then it kind of mutated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you, at any point of the story, feel Natasha or Steve isn't in character, PLEASE point it out.

Every waking minute feels like forever. From second you open your eyes all you're waiting for is the next time you can close them. Vigor for the fight left your veins and apathy has taken its place. You feel empty. It's as if everything you were, everything you had inside you is just gone. Nothing survived the war in your head. All that's left now is a bare carcass of what it was supposed to be.

As much as you hate to admit it, Sharon was right. The image of Peggy Carter is a lot to live up to. Especially when it comes to the one person who knew her best; Steve Rogers. Though, he easily forgot all about Peggy as soon as Sharon came into the picture.

You knew there was no competition between you and Peggy. If it came down to it, Steve would choose Peggy over you. He would choose Peggy over anyone. But when Sharon showed up, you weren't so sure anymore. The look in his eye when they talked at Peggy's funeral. The way she smiled at him. You knew he'd finally found someone closer the girl of his dreams. He didn't need you anymore.

The day Steve and Sharon kissed absolutely broke you. It proved everything you suspected.

And you couldn't tell anyone how hurt you'd been. The other Avengers had no idea you and Steve were together to begin with. No one but Natasha.

She didn't find out about your breakup until after the Raft escape.

Nat is smart though. She picked up on the tension between you and Steve. You were avoiding him with every ounce of might in you. He was doing the same. The both of you tried to be discreet. But with her enhanced hypervigilance, Nat noticed.

Everyone decided underground tunnels were the best hiding place after the Raft. Stark Industries tech won't be able to see that deep underground. So the place became your new home.

It was just mere days after the escape when she finally addressed the issue with you. Natasha pulled you aside from the rest of the group. She found a comfortable spot in another section of the tunnel. A couple of chairs with a desk sat in the corner. Some of the air gapped tech she stole from Tony lie splayed out on the desk.

You recall the other day when she asked for your help to strip down all the tech to singular parts. She wanted your help with the quinjet first. Natasha stole that when she helped Steve rescue you and the others from the Raft.

Your tired gaze questioned her.

Natasha ignored your effort and motioned for you to sit.

You followed along with her request. But not without a huff and a well-earned side-glare. "Okay," you joked, "who is your interior designer? I don't have a chair nearly as nice as this."

Natasha took the seat beside you. She grinned and flicked her lashes up at you. "I got it from this place down the street. It's called _Garbage Couture_ ," she replied. The last two words came out with a French accent.

You chuckled, unaware the smile actually touched your eyes. "Well, I'll be sure to give it a visit."

Natasha's eyes lingered on you for a moment. "That's a beautiful smile. I haven't seen it in a while. How come?"

Fidgeting, you look down at your hands. The smile faded. Your throat clears and you meet her gaze a again. "You know how it's been lately. The Raft was a rough place to be. I'm just not as resilient as everyone else." She lowered her brows, and you realized you made it seem like they tortured you. "Of course, they never hurt us or anything," you added. A nervous chuckle bounced off the concrete tunnel. "It just gave me a lot to think about. That's all. I'm fine, Nat, really."

She placed her palm on your squirming hands. The corner of her mouth twitched up in a sympathetic smile. "I know you and Steve haven't been on the best of terms lately. But I want you to know, that if you ever need a listening ear…" Her voice trailed off but she kept her palm on your hands.

A lump in your throat, you managed to choke out one word. "Yeah." You nodded at her. Your vision began to blur and your nose started to burn. Soon your nods turned into shakes. You looked up, hoping that might stop the your emotions from bubbling over. Breathing out, you focused on Nat again. "We broke up," you croaked. You tried to shrug it off, but all you managed to do was burst open the floodgates.

Natasha's arms wrapped you in a hug. She kept one arm tight around you while she ran her other fingers through your hair. "I know, sweetie. That idiot doesn't know how good he had it. I'll kick his ass for you later."

You chuckled through the tears. Sniffling, you shook your head and pulled away from the hug. "No, don't worry. I already did that."

A flame danced in her eyes. She arched a brow. "You did? Well, I'm still gonna kick his ass later."

True to her word, Natasha challenged Steve to a sparring match later that day. The bruises she gave him lasted a couple hours longer than any bruise before. Unfortunately, due to his rapid healing abilities they didn't last as long as you wanted them to. But it was still long enough to make you proud of the red-haired goddess.

And even if you didn't want to admit it, something illuminated the darkness inside you. Something about Natasha made you breathe again. The apathy you thought infected every cell in your body seemed to recede. Your heart started to beat again.

Several days later, a lead on another HYDRA operation found its way back to Team Captain America. That's what Sam started calling you guys. He coined it as a joke but as the joke went on it turned into a serious reference. The operation hit Wanda a little too close for comfort. It was another human experimentation plant.

Steve thought it might be best if she sit this one out. You and Nat didn't like that he was trying to tell her what to do. Natasha went to defend Her but Wanda beat her to it. She even compared him to Tony.

"You rescued me from one cage only to put me in another," Wanda argued. "Tell me again how that makes you any different from Stark."

Everyone in the room blinked at her.

Steve was shell shocked to say the least. But he didn't let it leak into his voice. Steve used a firm tone when he spoke. "I was putting into consideration how _you_ might feel."

"I feel fine, Captain Rogers. I want to go with you."

Steve looked to Bucky for help.

Bucky just shrugged. "She's probably the only one who might be able to relate to other enhanced."

You, Nat, and Wanda celebrated in silence. If his best friend votes yay, then Steve himself will, of course, vote with him.

Steve exchanged a reluctant glance with Wanda. He shook his head and let out a long-winded sigh. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Set out on a new mission, Team Captain America makes their way to shut down the HYDRA Operation. The building is in a more rugged area. Intricate collections of ridges and mountain ranges isolate the building. Separate it from the society of southeastern Brazil. They used the secluded land against itself and concealed their fortress with a more natural look.

The second your boots hit the ground you noticed something off about the place. No perimeter patrols. You glanced around at the team. They all seemed to realize it too.

Natasha kept her gaze on you but was still focused the rest of the team. Steve was motioning to Bucky, Clint, and Sam to check out the rest of the perimeter. Wanda, and Scott discussed a game plan to meld their abilities together.

You, on the other hand, walked right up to the door. No security cameras, you observed. They must really trust that no one would find the facility. Or they expect someone to find it. You lift the metal hatch and slide the door open. Your immediately faced with red digits rapidly counting down.

You turn to run back to the team. "Bomb!" you shout. Only the blast comes as you call out your warning. It catches you from behind and slams your body into a bulky ridge. The last thing you see is a jagged rock sticking out.

Natasha is the first to rise from her fall. She dashes to your side. Checking your wrist she determines your heart is still beating. But as soon as she tries to move you, a dark crimson patch covers your side. Nat doesn't hesitate to shred your top open. She pulls the fabric away, inspecting the area. Too much blood cloaks her view. Instead of making a guess right there, she wraps the fabric around your bodice and ties it tight.

Steve is on your other side now. He watches with horror as the girl he once loved struggles to come back to him. He grips your hand with his. Steve, afraid he might lose you, doesn't say anything. He just holds your hands in hopes your eyes will spring open.

Nat lifts your head into her lap and taps on your cheeks. "Hey, sweetie. Time to wake up." She flicked her gaze up at him. "She's hurt pretty bad. Get the stretcher and a med kit ready. I'll get her to the jet."

The Captain nods his head. He takes one more glimpse at you before running off. Steve instructs the rest of the team to find anything they can salvage. "And Wanda?"

She lifts her chin at the Captain.

He looks back at the burning building. "Put out the fire," he tells her. Leaving that in the air, Steve heads for the quinjet.

He sets up the med bay. You and Natasha join him not a minute later. She gently places you on the stretcher and gets to work. Taking off the makeshift bandage, she wraps your body with gauze that Steve handed her.

After they patch you up, Nat watches you for a second. Aware that Steve was right beside her, she resisted the urge to hold your hand. "She's lost a lot of blood. As soon as they get back we have to take her to a hospital—a real one."

"I wasn't watching her."

Nat looked up at him. "Why would you be? The two of you aren't together anymore." Her gaze falls back to your sullen features. She runs her fingers through your hair. "You don't have to pretend you care about her now."

Steve cocked his head to the side, his tone firm and defending. "I've never had to pretend."

Natasha drew her hand back. Turning to face him completely, she sized him up. "You've never had to be honest either. I saw how much your feelings for Peggy was tearing you apart. You didn't tell her, did you?"

Steve looked away, ashamed.

Nat turned back to you, placing her palm on your crown. Her thumb stroking your forehead. "Be honest, Steve." She peered at him from the side. "Were you the one to break up with her?"

"I didn't want to lose her." Steve stared you longingly. His broken heart written into the lines of his face.

Nat's focus returned to you. "Then why would you let her go? Why not fight for her?"

"I couldn't."

"You could have. But you didn't. There's a difference."

Steve turned to face the opposite direction and leaned on the stretcher. "No, I couldn't. Sharon is the woman I chose. The woman I love more than Peggy."

Natasha whipped her red hair around. "Sharon? Peggy's niece?"

Steve had a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. "I kissed her when she brought our weapons back."

Natasha didn't reply. Instead, she pulled Steve by the collar and slammed him against the opposite wall.

Just then your eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust. You tried to sit up but the pain ripple through your body. You cried out and stiffened at the agony.

Natasha pushed away from Steve. With her focus on you now, she eases your shoulders into the stretcher. "Don't move, sweetie. You're all right, just relax."

Steve watched as Natasha tended to your aid.

You grabbed at the woman holding you down. "Nat, the bomb."

"It's okay," she insisted. "The blast was confined to a minimum of ten feet. No one else was injured."

You relaxed in the stretcher. Relief washed over you and your breath grew steady. You rolled your head to the side, peering up at her. The green of her eyes melted your heart. "Natasha, how bad is it? How bad is the wound?"

"Pretty bad," she told you. Her lips scrunched to one side her face. A little smirk tugged at the corner. "You gave me quite a scare."

Steve made himself known now. "I hadn't yet given the order to engage." He stepped closer to you and Nat. "By opening that door, you risked losing significant data HYDRA may have left behind."

Nat's hand scrambled to hold yours. Then she snapped her focus at the Captain. "She's bleeding out, Steve. Give the girl a break." Turning back to you, she returns with a gentler demeanor. "We're gonna get you to a hospital as soon as the rest of the team gets back, okay?"

You began shaking your head. "What about the the Accords? They'll find us."

Steve offered in his thoughts. "I may have a way around that."

A collection of footsteps, both light and heavy, plodded on board the quinjet. That meant the rest of Team Captain America had joined the three of you now.

Natasha took her hand away from yours. You were left to yearn for the ghost of her touch on your skin again. She straightened up and gave you a little wink paired with a smirk. "You're gonna be fine."

You watched her leave. She started talking to Bucky, telling him something you couldn't hear. You sighed at the sight of her. Natasha has a look about her. A look that makes you want more than you even understood.

Steve stepped closer as he glanced between you and Natasha. "I see you two have gotten closer these past couple of weeks."

The pain you were in may have given you an extra amount of courage because you narrow your eyes at him with an attitude you've never shown him before. "Why does that matter? It's not like she's gonna break my heart then rub it in my face less than a week later."

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt, doll."

You shook your head at the man. "No, you get to do that. You don't get to call me 'doll' after the things you put me through. Do you know how broken I was after you did that? I couldn't even think straight. I nearly lost my mind in the Raft."

Steve's gaze falls to your hand. He reaches out for you but you withdraw. His pained expression doesn't meet your gaze. "I didn't know you felt that way."

You groaned. The throbbing pain in your side came so close to making you scream. "Wanna know why I opened that door?"

Surprised at the change of subject, Steve flitted his eyes at you.

"I opened it because I felt nothing. I was empty inside. I didn't care about the risk I was taking. You did that. You weren't everything to me but you stole a huge part of my heart."

Steve shifted his weight from one side to the other, clearly uncomfortable.

"I felt like I had nothing left. Nothing to lose, nothing in my heart. I didn't care about anything. But when I opened that door, and I saw the timer counting down, only one image flashed across my mind. And it wasn't you."

His sullen features dimmed. "I thought I was gonna lose you today." Steve abruptly made eye contact with you. "But as the world will have it, I lost you long before the bomb went off."

You wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he still has you. But that'd be a lie. Natasha had you. And you were hoping you had Natasha.

Your focus returned to Steve. "You have Sharon now. You don't need me anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt pretty iffy about this chapter. There's a reason why I don't write second parts. And I feel like this really lays it all out there. But let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments below. Don't be afraid to tap the kudos button.


	9. Breakfast of Champs: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has no ties to any movie in particular but it is set after the Avengers: Age of Ultron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha… yeah. Kinda has a crack!fic feel to it but it's still the fluffiest and most romantic one shot I've ever written. At least, that's how I see it.

Steam rose up as the pancake flipped in the air and fell back down to hit the pan again.

Wanda beamed up at you. "I did it!"

You waggled your eyebrows up and down. Pulling her in for a kiss, you rewarded her with a slight nibble on her bottom lip. "See? That wasn't so bad."

You were sitting on the counter beside the stovetop, supervising as Wanda cooked breakfast. The Sokovian woman of your dreams wanted to learn how to flip food in a pan. She'd seen Vision do it before, even asked him to teach her. He had the right idea in mind, but you knew a better way to teach her. Rather than trying to explain the physics of egg flipping, you guided her hand along the way. After a while she decided to test out her mad skills for herself.

You straighten your back and peek at her from the side. "Next up is the eggs."

She gave you a hesitant look but nodded anyway. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet," she admits. "But I'll give it a try."

"Believe in yourself," you chided. Your shoulder nudged hers. "I do."

Just then Natasha's bare feet padded into the kitchen. A toothy grin embedded itself into her cheeks. "Hey, ladies," she remarked. "I can smell the vanilla extract from all the way down the hall. Are you sure you put enough?"

Wanda tossed her index finger in your direction. "Her fault."

"Hey!" You scolded her in a joking manner. "Anyone ever tell you lies make your tongue swell up?"

Natasha chuckled, snaking her way towards you and Wanda. She pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "Morning."

Your giggles bled into your tone. "Morning," you greeted in return. You threw Wanda friendly glare and stuck out your tongue.

Natasha strode over to Wanda. Her palm gilded across Wanda's back. She gave Wanda a quick peck before greeting her as well.

After her morning kiss Wanda looked back to you. She arched a brow, taunting you with contempt in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes and grinned at the witchy woman. Refocused on Natasha, you noticed she was already munching on a piece of a pancake. And from the looks of it, she broke it off from the one Wanda just finished. Your eyes narrowed at her but she only shrugged and continued to polish off the pancake.

Wanda took a quick peek at the redhead. "Did you sleep well?"

Nat gulped down her food. "Well enough," she dismissed with a slight shrug. "You guys turned off my alarm again."

Your instantly reminded of the first time that happened. It was rare for Natasha to sleep in. And she just looked so perfectly at peace. Which is a lot for a girl who'd gone through so much. Nat almost never looked at peace. Even though she hid much of what she felt, you knew there were things in her head that can't be erased. But when she was asleep, wrapped her perfectly white sheets, you knew a moment like that needed to be preserved.

Although, when she shot up in a panic you were flooded with regret. She'd been having a nightmare and you just prolonged it. Nat forgave you, but not without a weary few days of the silent treatment. That was the longest three days of your life.

As you were brought back to earth, you realized Natasha was staring at you with a blank expression. It was your turn to point at Wanda. "That was all her this time."

Wanda stopped shoveling the eggs back and forth on the pan. Meeting Nat's gaze, she raised her hand and formed a little red ball of energy in her palm. "After all the fun we had last night," she explained with a coy smile. "I thought you might need some rest."

Natasha tilted her head to the side. Her vividly red hair swayed in sync. "Isn't that sweet?" She moved closer to Wanda and pressed a kiss into her cheek. "But I still need my alarm."

"Did I say that was all her?" you piped. "I meant to say I totally helped Wanda configure the settings and all that."

"Lies." Wanda eyed you from the side. "You did nothing of the sort. Careful or your tongue will swell."

Natasha's famous smirk made its first appearance of the day. She peeked at you from behind Wanda's dark hair. Narrowing her eyes, Natasha shook her head in a playful manner. "Shame on you."

You let your head droop in mock shame and jut out your bottom lip. A moment of silence passes between the three of you.

Wanda attempted to stifle a grin but failed in an adorable way that made your heart jump. "Stop pouting, you're too cute."

Giggles shook your shoulders but your face formed a frown. You managed to disguise the giggles as tiny sobs. "Ahaha! Kiss me, Wanda. I'm too cute, even death wants to whisk me away!"

Natasha let out a breathy chuckle. Nodding at you, she took the pan and the spatula from Wanda's grasp. "Go on and kiss the girl," she coaxed. "It'll get her to stop with the crocodile tears."

Wanda sighed and shook her head, dark curls dancing over her shoulders. "You're a spoiled brat."

You stopped the fake crying and grinned at her. "Yeah," you admit, "but you're in love with this spoiled brat."

She positions herself in front of the counter so that your straddling her waist. Wanda's fingers gently lure your chin down to her level. Her deep brown eyes gaze into yours as she hovers just slightly in front of you. "In love, am I? Incapable of leaving you is more like it." Twisting a desirous kiss into your lips, she leaves you breathless when she breaks it off.

Your eyes remain closed for a second longer as you remember the feel of her kiss. Prying your eyes open again, you stare at the woman in front of you. "Hmm," you purr. "Sounds a lot like love to me."

Wanda's lips curl up in a toothy grin. "It just might be." She squeezes your knee before turning away. Reaching into the fridge, she pulls out two full bottles of Orange juice and places one beside Nat. "We bought you your own."

"Yeah," you added in, "since last time you drank more than your equal share."

Natasha bowed her head and concealed a grin behind the cloak of her red hair. "You guys weren't drinking it, were you?"

"We would have," Wanda deadpanned. "But you drank it first."

Nat shrugged for the third time that morning. "Oops."

"Well…" You smiled at Wanda. "Now we don't have to worry about that anymore. Just gotta remember to get two bottles."

"Every time we go to the store," continued Wanda.

"Eggs are done," Natasha blurted out. She turned with a timid smile on her face. "Ready to eat?"

Wanda's blank expression slowly transformed into that of a devious smirk. "Did I make you squirm, my dear Natalia?"

Natasha's shoulders relaxed and she leaned her head just slightly to the left. "Impossible."

You glimpsed at the finished eggs. A plan devised in your head. And it all depended on how turned on Wanda was at that moment. Opening your mouth, you offered up your thoughts. "I think she did."

You watched as Wanda's eyes glowed scarlet red. She conjured up enough energy to lift Nat off the ground by a bare inch. Your plan worked. Natasha glided in the air as Wanda pulled her in for a sultry kiss.

All in one swift move, you hopped off the counter and made an entire plate of breakfast. Your meal was a heaping mess on the plate. You successfully collected all the food, leaving none for them.

They broke apart at the noise you made with your speedy mission. The two women who had your heart could only watch in shock as you darted around the kitchen.

When you realized their attention was on you, you stopped for a moment. A Cheshire smile widened across your faces. Then you made a run for your room.

Only, as soon as you took a step forward, Wanda had you and—the plate of food—suspended in mid air.

Natasha's voice resonated in the walls of the kitchen. "Where do you think you're going?"

Wanda spun you around to face her and Nat.

"Me?" You gestured to yourself. "Oh, I was just—" You cut yourself off as you try to swim in the air. When that failed, you grinned at the two ladies on the ground. A nervous chuckle rang from your lips.


	10. Post Mission Turmoil: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set some time before the events of Captain America: Civil War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gave me a hard time. But I completed it. Enjoy!
> 
> Per Request: One story involving both Wanda and Natasha about the aftermath of a mission.

A fist slammed into your gut. You doubled over. A series of punches swung at your face, knocking you from one side to the other. Tirelessly, punch after punch came at you. It seemed like they just wouldn’t stop.

Then, amongst the chaos, an opportunity presented itself. A window opened up and you sidestepped the next blow. Your hand curled into a fist. Flying your knuckles into the air with all your force packed behind it, you sent the assailant flailing across the room. The HYDRA agent slammed against the wall, then collapsed on the ground.

You took in a hefty breath and let it out with a humorless chuckle. Shaking your head, you made your way to the crumpled body on the floor. Clenching the collar of the agent’s shirt, you scooped them up and held a gun to their temple.

The second you made eye contact, you were paralyzed.

It was a woman. Her dark bangs fluttered in her lashes. Blood was dripping from a gash on her brow.

Shifting your stance, you felt a bit uneasy. You were never one to hit a woman before. Then again, she hit you first. And you were a firm believer in retribution. Gripping the gun more tightly now, you cocked back the hammer. Your chin lowered and your eyes narrowed.

“Wait," she whimpered. Her bottom lip quivered tears pooled in her eyes. "Please don’t. I have a daughter.”

Suspicious, you drew back and studied the HYDRA operative. She certainly didn't seem like a mother. The way she attacked you screamed brutal hand to hand combat training. And it was not a style you could pick up off the streets.

"Her name," she continued, "is Mary-Michelle. Please, a child can't be without a mother."

The act seemed convincing enough. After all, she was about to cry.

You lowered the gun and stepped away from the woman. Disappointment laced your features. "She'll get over it." As the words left your mouth, the barrel of your gun rose again.

She whipped your elbow before you could pull the trigger. The gun fell to the ground. You spun on the heel of your boot. Kicking the woman back into the wall, you lunged yourself at the gun. She caught your ankle and twisted it in the opposite direction. You shouted in agony, falling to the ground a few feet from the gun. Jumping on top of you, the woman struggled as you tugged on her and rolled over on the ground. The two of you grappled back and forth. The gun got closer and further as you wrestled around. The next thing you heard was the clang of metal and the woman had the gun pointed at you. Out of breath, you stared at the barrel while she pulled back the hammer again.

"Hail Hydra," were the only two words she uttered.

You shut your eyes, preparing for what would come next.

A bang echoed in the room. Dark blood sprayed in the air. The woman fell to your side.

You turned your head in the direction of the door. The view of a familiar silhouette sent relief coursing through your veins. "Natasha…" Pushing the HYDRA woman's limp body away, you rose to your feet. A surge of anger boiled in your blood. You didn't need a girl to come to your rescue. You were doing just fine on your own. Staring at the red-haired Russian, your jaw clenched and unclenched. "I had her."

"Didn't look that way." She pressed her lips together.

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving."

You didn't realize Wanda had been standing behind Nat the whole time. Her voice called out as she stepped into the conversation. "You hesitated," she said. A twitch of her neck and a deeper rage swallowed you up.

"I had her!"

"Whatever you say, Rocky," said Natasha. She glanced at her watch. "T-minus Ninety seconds 'till blast off. Let's go."

You followed them out the building and ran for the quinjet.

Tony fired up the engine. Steve wandered over to your side, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Hey," he greeted.

You responded with a nod and focused out the open hatch. You watched from the air as the bomb Wanda methodically placed lit up the HYDRA development.

"Come to lecture me, Cap?" You glance at Steve sideways. You know he and the whole team heard the conversations you shared with the HYDRA woman and Nat and Wanda. It's not like the com devices are automatically set to private after you address the team. "Because I already know what a split second pause can do. You don't gotta remind me."

A silent moment passed between the two of you.

Steve sighed. "The claim she made," he said, "any one of us would've done the same."

Surprised, you snapped your gaze at the man. Your lowered brows observed his reassuring smile. It didn't seem right that he'd support the error that almost cost you your life. Particularly about the part where it almost you the mission itself. But he was right. A claim of motherhood and the whole team would've stopped before pulling the trigger.

The Captain squeezed your shoulder once before stepping away.

You refocused on the open hatch. The earth moved miles beneath the quinjet. Trees became mountains became cities became oceans.

Tony was flying everyone back to Upstate New York.

When you reached the compound again, you left for the infirmary without a word. Maybe some meds for the pain in your face will help you get some rest. That HYDRA spy might have been a woman, but damn she had a good right hook. Too bad for your left cheek.

The nurse tending to your bruises handed you an orange bottle. "Make sure you only take three a day," she warned. "They're highly addictive."

You nod your thanks. Watching as she leaves, you slowly rise from your seat on the medical bed. You turn to grab your gear when the echo of heels click behind you.

"She got you pretty good."

"Natasha," you greeted, turning to face her. "Come to rub it in my face again?"

Her firm stance faltered slightly. But she caught herself and arched a brow. "Yeah," she said. Her chin lifted. "I know how much you enjoyed it the first time. Just thought I'd treat you to another free session."

"How considerate of you," you sneered. "But you can save it for some other time. Because right now, I'm really not in the mood."

Natasha gulped and lowered her head. "I know. But that's not really why I came down here."

"You don't say…"

"I came to check on you."

"You're here," you tell her. Your arms opened wide as you gestured to your surroundings. "You checked on me. I'm fine."

"Are you?" Her pressing demeanor stepped closer and she narrowed her eyes. "Because it sure looks to me like there's something going on underneath all that tough male bravado."

"Why do you even care?" You watched as your words caused a sting to ripple in her features. "Aren't you supposed to be the cold-hearted assassin or something?"

"I'm not a psychopath."

"I don't know, you murdered someone in cold blood." Pushing past Natasha, your next sentence came out in whispers. "And from what I know, it's not your first time either." Marching toward the door you left her standing in the middle of the room.

"And I suppose saving _your_ brains from being splattered across the floor wasn't worth it?"

You stopped just before you reached the door and twisted your body toward her. "She didn't have to die. You have great aim with a pistol. A shot at the gun in her hand would've done the job. So you tell me. Was saving my life worth killing another?"

Natasha's lips twitches in the corner and she lifted her chin even higher.

"Yeah," you said. Turning back to the door, you kept moving. "That's what I thought."

Being confined to your room had its perks. No one bothered you much. Vision kept his journeys through solid walls to a minimum. At least the journeys into your room anyway.

As the day carried on you realized midnight was getting closer. You didn't want a pity party. And the gym was less populated in the late night hours. A few rounds with a punching bag should help ease your bitterness.

Suiting up, you taped your knuckles. The gloves from your personal collection hung loosely over your gym bag. Sneaking into the hallway, your feet padded toward the elevator. All doors but one was left open.

It was Wanda's room. Great, just what you needed. A telepath with a warm heart. If you walk past that door and she sees you, she'll definitely want to stop and talk. You're not in the talking mood.

Scaling the wall, you stop just before the dim light can catch you. Several musical notes carry their tunes out the door. She's strumming on her guitar. Slowly, you peek your head into view. Natasha's sitting on the bed, grinning. Wanda's at the foot of the bed with her guitar strapped over her shoulders.

Dammit. There's two of them.

No way you'll be able to sneak past both of them. You steal a glance at the elevator then look back to the two women. Licking your lips, you make split second decision. You stand up straight and step into the light.

"Hey, I'm gonna head to the gym. I got my cell in case you need me."

The two ladies exchanged a glance. Wanda spoke up first. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Uh… okay, I'll bite." You lowered your brows. "Why not?"

"I know you may believe different," she said. Wanda unstrapped the guitar and placed on her bed. "But fighting like this… The anger, it will consume you."

You shift your weight from one side to the other. A breathy chortle escapes your lips as you glance at the elevator and back. "Listen, Wanda, I get that you care and all but I'll be fine. Besides, it's not like I'm heading out to commit a murder. It's just a punching bag."

Natasha stood up from her place on the bed. Her shoulders relaxed and her chin downward. She seemed sincere. "Trust her," said Nat.

You careened at the former Soviet assassin. Snickering, your hand tightens around the straps of the gym bag. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt anybody."

"You'll hurt yourself," Wanda piped. "It won't make you less angry, but moreso."

"I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need help from a little girl with magical mental issues, all right?" You stare at the two women realizing what you'd just said. Wanda recoiled with wide eyes. You sigh and droop your shoulders. "I didn't mean that, I'm sorry."

A deafening silence fell upon the atmosphere.

Nat glared at you. And Wanda blinked fiercely before turning away.

"Look," you began, "I'm just gonna go." You shut your eyes for a second then looked up to see Wanda's back to you. Natasha had gone over to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder. You reached out as if to offer her comfort as well. Crumpling your fingers back into your palm you let your hand fall and slap your thigh. "I'm sorry." You sighed, shaking your head.

Marching back to your room, you took Wanda's advice. And you would for the rest of your life.

You never fought angry. But that's because you had the pills to keep you calm.

**Author's Note:**

> Go for it. Make requests.


End file.
